


do not hang your head

by Hokuto



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto
Summary: The security officer gets a nice surprise for once.





	do not hang your head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeneralRADIX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralRADIX/gifts).



> Written for a ficlet/doodle exchange with [GeneralRADIX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralRADIX/pseuds/GeneralRADIX), who requested the reunion in Marathon 2 but with Durandal having an android body. A+ IDEA.
> 
> ([LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL ANA BRAY & ANDROID!RASPUTIN ART I GOT THOUGH](http://general-radix.tumblr.com/post/177653312642/my-half-of-a-doodleficlet-exchange-with-hokuto), LOOK AT IT! They're so awkward I LOVE THEM!)

Vince was too exhausted to parse much sense out of Thoth's elliptical conversation; he'd been running on fumes since before Thoth had dumped on the _Hfarl_ to do - whatever it was Thoth thought he should do. Clearing the Pfhor out of the ship had worked well enough to get the old ibis talking again, however little sense it made.

Time, sure. Something about wheels, okay, and Vince rubbed his eyes. Every inch of him ached.

The Eleventh Clan will return.

You must go to them.

Vince blinked. That was straightforward, for sure, so it had to be important, but the words still wouldn't click together into anything meaningful. He needed a break, and as he fumbled for the teleport key, he hoped that Thoth and Blake might finally give him one.

Of course, he wasn't that lucky. The teleport dropped him in a stone room with a floor that was mostly water, and a couple of Pfhor troopers honked at him from the narrow raised path. Vince ducked a storm of grenades and rolled off the platform he'd appeared on.

The cold water slapped him half out of his daze, but it wasn't that much of an improvement. Part of him wanted to just let the water keep dragging him down, let it smother him and drain his oxygen and drown him so he could rest. Just for a minute.

Most of the rest of him, too stubborn to quit, said _Screw that_ , and he kicked himself back up to the surface and heaved his collection of strains and bruises onto the damp stone, his assault rifle loaded and ready to go.

But no troopers opened fire. They were both down, sad heaps of cracked armor dripping ichor, and instead there were - well, he guessed they were the Eleventh Clan because they sure weren't Pfhor, but they didn't look much like the S'pht he knew. Gigantic, smoothly curved exoskeletons with the faintest sculpting that created an impression of sleek muscles; dark silver helmets impenetrable to the eye - or at least to Vince's tired eyes - focused on him...

Assault rifle. Right. Yeah, and he lowered it as he slowly got to his feet. Wouldn't be so great if they thought he was one of the enemy.

The opaque helmets regarded him for another few seconds, and then the two S'pht'Kr vanished with with a short _vwip_. So, not as friendly as some of the other S'pht, either. Not that they had any reason to get buddy-buddy with him, really. But at least they'd shown up and were fighting the Pfhor. That was good, he remembered that. It was what they'd wanted. What Durandal had wanted. If only he were there to brag about it.

Vince moved on autopilot to the live switch on one wall, and the door next to it opened. Another broad, water-filled room lay beyond. He followed the path through, shooting a couple of simulacrums that dropped in on top of him, and on the other side was a little room and -

He was there. Leaning against a terminal with that loose hank of hair hanging over his face, arms crossed, grin just slightly crooked, and Durandal said, "I'm back."

He started to say something else, but Vince didn't catch a word of it; he crossed the steps between them in a leap and swept Durandal up in a hug. "It _is_ you," he said, marveling at the fact of it, the weight and solidity of the android vessel in his arms. "You're really back."

"Didn't I just say that?" Durandal said, his hands already on Vince's shoulderblades but lightly, as if afraid of damaging him. "Honestly. I had a whole speech ready, and you can't even let me get past the first two words."

"I thought you were dead!"

Durandal sighed. "It probably won't make you feel better if I tell you it was almost all part of the plan, will it?"

"Don't ever do that to me again, you -" Vince swallowed all the million words that had jumped to mind, half of which he didn't mean and half he wasn't ready to say yet; he only wanted to, in case he never got the chance. "Just don't. Got that?"

"I won't," Durandal said without a trace of teasing in his tone. "Not again." Then, with forced lightness, "Now let go of me, you big oaf. As much as I'd like to give you a break, the Pfhor aren't defeated yet. And there are too many around here in particular to slack off."

"You'll have to let go first."

Durandal huffed, but he loosened his grip on Vince's back enough that Vince could step away and be grateful he still had his helmet on. "All right," Vince said, "you're the navigator again. Tell me where to go."


End file.
